After Club Mayan
by grandstar85
Summary: A deeper look at Rachel and Frank after the club scene. I caught this film, one of my faves, for the first time in YEARS last week, and always wished I could get a better grasp on the characters' feelings. There is so much more below the surface. (Also inspired by the deleted scene on YouTube. If you haven't watched it, go before you read!)


"I've never done _that_ before," Henry muttered, wide eyed.

The young chauffeur had just finished peeling out of an alleyway in their limo, leaving behind a thick, angry mob of unsatisfied fans. It was dark, nearing midnight, and rain pounded steadily, audibly, on the windshield. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, a difficult feat with his employer still trembling in the backseat.

Rachel felt every bit as frail and weak as she looked, her shoulders and thin arms shaking with each silent sob. Frank, her new bodyguard, could see the wet streaks on her face each time they passed a streetlight. He said nothing. Part of him wanted to yell " _I told you so!_ " since he'd tried to stop her from going on stage. But, true to her stubborn ways, she'd blown onto the stage like a storm. And he knew that saying those words would accomplish absolutely nothing. Rachel Marron did what she wanted, when she wanted to do it. He had known that when he accepted this job.

Had it not been for that one fan who wanted more, the performance probably would have been fine. The crowd had behaved themselves well for a few minutes, but a young, brazen man had thought he deserved more, jumping onto the stage and trying to dance with her. True to character, Rachel had thought she had it all under control. She still didn't realize the growing power of her own celebrity; in her mind she was still the young girl from the Pittsburgh suburbs who happened to be able to act and sing, taking the leads in community musicals rather than being nominated for Oscars and Grammys.

The night's events raced through Rachel's mind over and over. She'd never been so scared, and she never would have believed it could happen. Her own fans, people who supposedly loved her, had caused her to feel afraid. This was new, and she hated it. She sniffled, trying to fight a new wave of tears. The safety she'd felt when Frank had pulled her up into his arms was like none she'd ever known before, and for the first time she'd realized he was more than just an overpriced, stuffy pain in the ass.

Frank reached out a steady hand to place it on her arm, then thought better of it, pulling away before she saw. He instead wriggled out of his suit jacket, placing it around her shoulders in the hopes that it would calm her. Her head was still bowed, and she was wiping tears away, trying to hide her weakness. He didn't know what to say. Sure, some of what happened was her fault, but she had no way of knowing how it would end. That they would grab her and pull at her and try to tear her apart. He was lucky he'd even gotten to her in time; the reality is that it could have been much worse. With her headstrong attitude, he couldn't have stopped her any more than he could stop this rain, and yet he felt he'd failed her somehow tonight. He'd gotten there when it mattered, but it never, ever should have come to that. Not with someone so beautiful and so vulnerable. Not with _his_ Rachel. He closed his eyes at that last thought, hating himself for developing an attraction to a client. He had trained and practiced for years to stay aloof and somewhat disinterested, and yet this woman, who in all honestly usually treated him with utter bitchiness, had awoken feelings in him that he hadn't had in years.

As the limo slowed in the front circle of the house, Rachel tugged his black jacket tightly around her, wishing she could just disappear. On top of her understandable fear, she was also embarrassed. She hated being proven wrong. And she hated anything that could put even a tiny dent in her brave, devil-may-care facade; tonight had shattered nearly all of that for her. What was left of her?

Killing the engine, Henry got out of the car, opening the back door for Rachel and holding out a hand for her to take. As shaken as he was, he was still on the job.

"You can go on in, Henry. I've got her." Frank's words were soft, yet left no room for argument.

Normally she would protest, snarkily saying something about being able to take care of herself. But everything was different now. She brushed away the last of the tears on her cheek as Frank walked around the back of the car, then took her hand into his. The two looked at each other for a long moment then, her scared, dark eyes questioning his businesslike blue ones.

"I'm sorry," she whispered almost inaudibly. If Frank only knew how much pride she'd given up just to say those two little words.

She grasped his hand and stood up, and he pushed the car door closed with his foot. There was no way he could let on about his feelings toward her: an odd mix of annoyance, fear, and something growing closer to love every day. He saw a side of Rachel that almost nobody got to see. The way she treated her crew like members of her family. The pure love she felt for her son. The way she took every media criticism to heart, her eyes flashing with sadness and hurt before she put her brave face back on. She cared deeply about what others thought. Reading people accurately was a huge part of his job, and yet he was certain she thought that he saw her as only a stubborn, loudmouthed diva.

His mind returned to the moment. "For what?" He showed no emotion.

She didn't, couldn't, answer him. He led her quietly to the front door, his hand still wrapped tightly around hers. Reaching his free hand into his pants pocket, Frank pulled out his keys and then promptly dropped them. She noticed a slight, uncharacteristic shake in his hand as he let go of hers, bending down to retrieve the keys. It crossed her mind that maybe even Frank was human. He was usually unflappable, not cocky per se, but very certain of himself and his abilities.

He sighed as he picked up the keys, wondering what he would have done if something had happened to her tonight. The thought was unbearable. He treated her almost with disdain more often than not, but it was only because he couldn't open up to her. It would never work out between them. Maybe if they weren't working together, maybe if there wasn't an overt threat on her life. So many maybes. None of them reality. In their current situation, it simply couldn't happen. Besides, he didn't think she shared his attraction. If she did, she had a damn funny way of showing it.

The two walked in silence past the formal living room and kitchen, down the dark hallway to Rachel's bedroom. He opened the door and flipped on a small lamp. She took a few tentative steps into the room, then turned to face him. She was understandably exhausted, but she knew sleep wasn't coming, not with her brain going a million miles a minute. The bed creaked softly as she lowered herself onto it, looking down at her lap.

Rachel was a beautiful woman, and she knew it. Hell, she prided herself on it. Years ago, she'd ended up with two dates to her senior prom, and ditched them both to make out with the homecoming king, and that was well before she was even famous. Rich, powerful, sexy men vied for her attention almost constantly, and yet she'd been single for over eight years. There had been a few flings, sure, but she always ended them before it became serious. She didn't like to be tied down, relishing the power and pride of knowing she could string along just about any man she wanted to. Her new bodyguard was one of very few straight men she'd ever met who didn't trip all over himself in her company. He was all business, all the time, and he seemed to be able to see through her bullshit, which somehow simultaneously irritated and intrigued her.

Frank crossed the room to a window, pulling the blind closed. He turned back to face her just as she looked up, and she was surprised at the tenderness she saw in his eyes. It was an emotion she'd not yet seen from him; one she hadn't even known he possessed. Rachel looked away. He walked back over to her, pausing beside the bed. She wanted to expand on her earlier apology, but didn't know how. He had to realize how grateful she was, even if she was unable to show it. He had, quite literally, saved her life tonight. Sure, that was his job and had been for a couple of weeks now, but tonight was the first time Rachel had realized just how much she really needed him.

She brought her eyes up to again meet his, seeing in a new light how attractive he really was. She'd noticed it in passing, as any woman would, but never gave it much thought. Her sister, Nicki, had brought up the subject more than once, and Rachel had just rolled her eyes, blowing it off like she did with lots of Nicki's comments. It seemed Nicki liked every man who came into the house. Besides, she couldn't date an employee. It would just be awkward. And the man had seemed to have no personality. Until now, anyway.

Frank knelt down in front of her. "Are you going to be okay?" he whispered, his eyes probing hers for an honest answer. There was a new chemistry between them now, an unspoken bond that happens when you experience trauma with someone. For the first time since she'd known him, he actually seemed to give a shit about what she was going to say. Yet there was nothing she _could_ say. Obviously, life was going to continue. It always did. She miraculously hadn't sustained any injuries, but she felt very far from "okay." She felt like her life, and level of celebrity, was now going to be divided into two parts: what happened before this night, and what happened after it.

Unable to move, she just continued to stare at him, watching as his hands eventually moved to the top of her knee-high boot. He unzipped it, pulling it down her leg and off, then looked up at her as if asking for permission to continue. Her breath caught in her throat, a quick, unsolicited wave of desire washing over her. She tried to put it out of her mind, acknowledging how inappropriate it was.

Frank didn't know what had made him start undressing her. Only that she looked so helpless, sitting there all slumped over, and that she couldn't sleep in her stage clothes. His heart was pounding as he looked at her, hoping his eyes didn't betray anything. Whether it was in vain or not, he wanted her. But he couldn't let her know. Not now. This was just something that had to be done. A means to an end, so the poor girl could try to get a good night's sleep.

Both of his hands reached back up, tugging down the top of her stocking. Rachel swallowed hard, her face flushing as his fingernails gently grazed her thigh while he pulled the nylon down her leg. He was slow and deliberate, and he again searched her eyes for either permission or a protest. She gave neither. Her exhausted mind was spinning in every direction as he pulled the rest of the stocking off her foot, discarding it into the floor, his eyes never leaving hers. She knew thinking of him in a sexual way was wrong, but yet, it somehow felt incredibly right. Her attraction to him was as strong as it was sudden. But she couldn't show him that. She pushed away the thought that he was somehow taking advantage of her in her traumatized state. Not Frank. He had way too much discipline. And yet, here he was undressing her, both of her long legs now bare against the room's chilly air.

He paused for a brief moment and she saw his jaw tighten before he brought his hands up to her arms, pulling off one glove, then the other. She closed her eyes and shuddered as a cold chill ran through her, his warm fingers stroking down both of her arms and gently squeezing her hands. She could see raw desire all over his face for a brief second before he turned away, lying the gloves down on top of her boots and stockings. He stood up slowly, pulling his jacket from around her and draping it over the nightstand. Their eyes met; seemingly one last chance for her to put a stop to this, which she knew she probably should, but she didn't want to.

Why _shouldn't_ she go to bed with him? The few brief seconds that his hands had been on her were far from unwelcome. Sure, the timing was more than a little bit off, but that couldn't be helped. Her mind briefly flashed on Nicki and her little crush on Frank, but Rachel couldn't help that either. He definitely wouldn't be the first man she'd gone to bed with even though her sister was interested in him. Nicki should know by now that Rachel always gets what Rachel wants.

Her heart picked up its pace as he sat down beside her on the bed, not making eye contact with her as he unhooked the front clip of her dress. Sitting there in now just her bra and a skirt, she felt vulnerable; a far cry from the power she usually liked to elude over men. Yet she wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on her, even though in this moment he held all the cards.

A few seconds went by in silence, Frank's hands in his lap, his eyes now averted from hers. She breathed in, moving her hands to his shoulders and slipping her fingers underneath his black suspenders, tugging them gently aside and letting them fall. She placed both hands on his chest leaning up to press her lips against his, but he turned away at the last second. Every cell in his body was angry with him as he quickly raised his hands to hers, stopping her progress. He wanted this more than anything, but this isn't how he'd imagined it. He wanted dinner, and flowers, and laughter, and maybe even a little seduction. Some give and take. Something from the playful Rachel she'd shown him in their few moments alone together, when her guard was down and she wasn't playing the bitch role. Not some last-minute quickie because she felt like she owed him something. No, this wasn't the way their first time was going to happen.

He met her gaze, any sign of want now completely gone from his expression. He was back to business. Standing up, he nudged her hands off of him.

"Frank? What's wrong?" The question was so soft, she almost wondered if she'd asked it at all.

"Nothing."

"But I - "

"Not now," he interrupted. "Not like this. Lie down."

She obeyed; he always had a way of commanding respect even without raising his voice.

"Don't you want to know why I behaved that way?"

He leaned over, pulling the thick white comforter up to her chin, essentially tucking her in. Even with three blankets on her, the bed felt cold. He turned his back to her, flipping off the bedside lamp.

"I know why. Good night, Rachel."

She couldn't read the emotion in his tone as he slipped out the door, quietly closing it behind him.


End file.
